


Always There

by Stellar_Anarchist



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Brotherly Love, Drinking, Feelings, Fighting, Ford gets dark, Ford gets kinda vulnerable, Ford is a dork, Language, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Stancest - Freeform, butt stuff, cute stuff, excuse the bad writing, losing virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-05-24 18:55:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6163264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stellar_Anarchist/pseuds/Stellar_Anarchist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weirdmaggedon is over. Stanley and Stanford have begun their journey out at sea. Stan is still recovering from saving the world and his memory is still iffy. Things come and things go. And when memories resurface, they become recreated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanwork EVER. Criticism is welcomed, just don't be mean.

They had been sailing for nine days now. Finding a boat had been...difficult. Ford was picky. Did it have at least a little room for his study? Was it stable? Could it handle storms and the occasional monster. All Stan was worried about was if the words 'Stan-o-War II' would look good on it.  
They finally agreed upon ship. It had one cabin, with one bed. Stan and Ford could share a bed, but both figured it would be kinda awkward, so Ford usually slept in his desk chair. Ford was just observing the sea right now. He wasn't working. He was taking a break from the abnormal. He was enjoying the mundane and explainable.  
Stan loved seeing Ford this way. Stan adored him. His older twin. He was staring at Ford through the cabin door window. Ford was just standing there. The sun glinted off of the white streak in his hair. His body swayed with the ship. He was so calm, so natural. They were in a place where it was very warm and the sun shone brightly. The heat had made Ford ditch his usual turtleneck sweater and replace it with a dark blue t-shirt. Stan though it looked great on him. The blue on his skin. It showed his muscles very well. His kinda pecks and not really abs.  
What did all those dimensions do to him, Stan thought. They turned him into a perfectly chiseled demigod who has so much power and strength. All Stan wanted right now was to be held by those muscular arms, just like Stan did to Ford when they were younger. All those nights when they lay in Ford’s bed. All those nights when Stan had to comfort Ford because something had happened to make Ford doubt himself. Then that one night when Ford had inched to his face and then-  
“What the fuck am I thinking,” Stan whispered to himself. Christ, that was his brother. His twin fucking brother. Perhaps that memory was warped anyways. Stan tried to convince himself that him and his brother hadn’t – but no. It had happened. The visual parts of a memory could be changed, maybe even the speaking parts, but the feeling, the hot touch, the sweet-rough contact, the heat being exchanged by bodies… those things can never be manipulated into something else. The memory of that night came in an instant and disappeared in the same time.  
Christ, no. Stan couldn’t be thinking like this. He didn’t want these thoughts. Not at all. But good God, he liked them. Loved them. Lusted for these thoughts, these memories… his brother. He knew it was wrong, but it felt so fucking right. It was like that chocolate cake set in front of you. You don’t want it. You know what it will do to your body. It will poison it. Damage it. But it looks so good. So divine and delicious. It’s oozing chocolate. Your breath is catching because it’s so fucking sexy. Am I talking about a sexy cake or my sexy brother, Stan thought. No. I can’t call my brother sexy. But he loved it. That poison. So sweet on the way down, but it damages your body. It leaves scars and bruises. Oh, those bruises that would take a couple weeks to go away.  
“Stanley! What are you looking at?” Ford’s voice snapped Stan out of his stupor. His mind went from mental Ford to real Ford, his focus still never leaving his brother.  
“Uhh… nothing, Sixer. Just daydreaming, I guess.”  
“Are you okay? How’s your memory?” Ford’s voice dwindled at the last sentence. Stan’s memory was a touchy subject. It was there, but it almost seemed like Bill… tampered with it a little bit. Stan would wake up from nightmares in the middle of the night, sweating, but cold. He sometimes couldn’t separate reality from fantasy. Ford tried to help, but he didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t some machine he could fi with a screwdriver and some extraterrestrial adhesive. This was his younger brother. Someone who he loved very much…though after all this time, he was still not sure in what way.  
“I’m fine. Tired. Need a drink.”  
“Okay, Stanley. I’ll stay out here until the sun goes down. You have a drink and go to sleep.”  
Stan did. He want back into the cabin and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He sat on the bed, longing for his brother to be beside him. He laid down and drifted into slumber, and for once dreamt of a good memory.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts triggered Stanley to dream about him and his brother when they were younger. A happy memory is finally remembered, but is it real?

That week, Ma and Pa Pines were visiting some family in West Virginia. They had left Stanford and Stanley alone. They were 15, so they could surely take care of themselves. Stan took advantage of his parents’ absence and skipped school the last two days. He was drinking one of his dad’s beers and playing paddle ball when he heard the front door open and then slam shut.

Stan sees his brother rush past him, towards their room, covering his eyes and choking back sobs. This had happened a couple times before. Ford always got picked on at school, for his extra fingers, for him being so smart, for his attire that consisted mostly of sweaters. The bullies gave Ford hell, and he usually ignored them, but sometimes someone would get him in the Achilles heel.

“Oh, man. Ford come here. What’s wrong?” Stan hated seeing his brother upset and crying. It broke his heart. And usually he would beat up the kid who dared to pick on his brother, but he couldn’t do that right now. All he could do was comfort his brother.

Stan got up off the Lazy boy and went into their room. He saw Ford curled up in his bed, shoes still on, looking helpless, like a cub whose mother had abandoned him. He was sobbing into his pillow. The sound was heartbreaking. He was shaking, his fists clenched into his pillow. Stan had never seen him this bad. This was a sight that could drain all life and happiness from your soul.

“Umm…” Stan wanted to say something to help, but words seemed too superficial. He laid on Ford’s bed, right net him, and put his arm over Ford. He didn’t squeeze or try to necessarily hug him. Sometimes the softest and gentlest things carry the most meaning.

Stan sat up a little, wanting to get closer to his brother, and noticed that Ford’s sleeve was pulled up a little on his left arm and that there were streaks of crimson lining his arm. A vertical one was still bleeding because it was so deep.

They lay there together for a few minutes, though it seemed like it was eons. Minutes with someone you love serve an eternity in your soul. Ford finally quit shaking. Tears were still dripping from his eyes, though the terrible sobbing had stopped.    

“Why, Stanley? Why was I cursed with extra fucking fingers? I never asked for this shit. I’m a freak. A fucking freak! What the hell is the point of my goddamned life?” Stan could hear the desperation and hurt in his voice. His twin was broken and he wanted to fix it. But how?

“Sixer, it’s okay. You really are-” Ford jerked out from under Stan’s arms and jumped off the bed. His face twisted into anger and he walked across the room to his desk.

“Christ, Stanley! Stop fucking calling me Sixer! I hate it! You have no goddamned clue how hard it is to be a fucking weirdo that has no real fucking friends. You have no idea how it is to be worthless!” That last word hit both of them hard. Ford’s breath was catching hard. He had believed he was worthless for some time now. He was always pushing the thought down, deeper into his mind, but that only made it come up just as hard. Stan stared at his brother in utter disbelief. How could his brother ever think that he was worthless? He was everything, and Stan was going to make sure that his older twin never thought he was worthless again.

Stan rushed over to Ford and grabbed him by the wrists, being wary of his cuts. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and full of anger.  Their faces were so close, only a few inches away from each other. Ford could feel his younger brother’s breath. Hot. Wet.

“Stanford Filbrick Pines. You are not worthless. You have so much meaning. So much worth. You’re a fucking genius. That is a gift handed out scarcely by God. But if being absolutely brilliant doesn’t give you worth, then think about me. You have a brother that needs you so much, man. Christ, Sixer. I need you. Don’t you dare fucking say that you’re worthless ever again. I love you, Ford, and if that doesn’t give you a whole hell of a lot of worth, then I don’t know what does.”

Ford looked at his brother in awe. Stan obviously cared about him. A lot. More than he thought. Stan was…amazing.  His brother cared for him so much. That’s what gave him worth. Stanley.

And then Ford acted on pure, raw emotion.

Stan saw Ford’s eyes close. His face inched, ever so slowly, closer and closer. _What’s going on_ , Stan thought. He actually didn’t know what to think. Was it wrong? It didn’t matter. Right and wrong held no dominion in this moment.

And then Ford’s lips met his own. They were warm and rough. Delicious. _Should I kiss back? I mean this is my goddamn brother kissing me…but, oh, his lips taste good._ He began to kiss back, feeling his bottom lip brush against Ford’s teeth. He had experience with girls, kissing, but never sex. He knew what he wanted and how to get it. He put his hands on Ford’s waist, jerking their bodies together. They noticed each other’s erections. They kept kissing, though, enjoying the taste and intimate touch.

Ford had very little experience with anything. He had kissed a few girls, but had never made out with them to the extent of what he was doing with his brother. He tried cupping a breast one time, but had gotten a punch to the gut in return. He was nervous then, but it was different now. He felt safe with his brother’s lips against his own. He didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like, but he liked this feeling, and he wanted more.

_Knock, knock, knock_. The sound jerked the twins back into reality. Stan saw his brother smile at him. He loved it. He loved him.

* * *

 

Stan woke up calmly. He saw Ford leaning over his desk, writing. That dream had to have happened. But he wasn’t sure. Could he ask Ford about it? He had to. He just had to know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan confronts Ford about the dream he had. He learns the truth about some pf the things they did when they were younger.

 

            Stan got up and walked over to Ford where he was writing something in one of new journals. Stan wanted to talk to him about their childhood. About the time they spent alone together. About the things they did. Maybe they did. He wasn’t sure. He just wanted to clear things up and end the confusion.

            “Hey, Ford.” His brother didn’t look up. He was caught up in his studies, as usual. Stan nudged him.

            “Yeah Stanley?” He finished that one page and closed the book. His attention was fully on Stan now.

            “Umm. Can we talk?” His voice quivered with nervousness. He had no idea how to approach the topic. _How in the hell do I ask my twin brother if we kissed when we were younger?_ he thought.

            “Of course, Stanley.” Ford stopped talking and his eyes darted across the room with suspicion. “Wha- what do you want to talk about?”

            “Umm…well, our childhood. Our teen years together. Specifically, the _things_ we did together. Or maybe didn’t do. I don’t know. It’s just that… I had a dream and it was a good dream, don’t get me wrong.” He lowered his voice. “A great dream actually, but I don’t know if it was real.” He stopped and looked at Ford, trying to read his expression.

            “What did you dream, Stanley?” He rubbed his hands together, intertwining the fingers, like he did when he was nervous. He hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was. He hoped that Stanley would have forgotten about that part of their relationship.

            “Well, umm. I dreamt we kissed. Well, made out. When we were like 15.”

            “Is that all you dreamt? Just us kissing?”

            “Yea.” He lingered on the word. “Why?” He was confused at his brother’s reaction, as if something else should have happened in the dream.

            Relief began to flood over Ford. _Thank goodness all he remembered was just us kissing_ , Ford thought _. I don’t know what I would do if he remembered us… having sex._

            “Just wondering,” he said. He could make up an excuse on why they kissed, but sex was different. Sex was on a whole other level of awkwardness…  and pleasure.

            “So…did we?”

            “Did we what? Kiss?”

            “Yea, Sixer. What else? That’s what this whole conversation has been about.” Stan was starting to get annoyed by his brother avoiding the subject.

            “Yes. We did kiss. On multiple occasions. We liked it and we did it. So what?” Ford was starting to get mad at his younger twin, but he knew he shouldn’t be. He knew that Stan was just confused and of course turned to his brother for help.

            “Alright, geez. I just had to know. I’ll go back to sleep now if you’re gonna be a dick.” Ford glared at Stan as he walked back to the bed. He laid down and slipped into sleep. Dreams visited him again. Intense dreams that he wasn’t sure about, that confused the hell out of him. What else had he and his brother done?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Ford are supposed to be going to prom, but complications arise, and they end up spending the night in a different way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that it took so long to get this up. Kinda got writer's block, but then life blocked me as well. It's all good, though. Just keep swimming, guys. Please enjoy. Please tell me what you think. Thanks for reading. Give 'em hell.

 

            Prom night. Stan and Ford were dressed to the nines. Their parents felt bad about never giving them anything with a lot of value. They were poor and that was perfectly fine with the two brothers. They didn’t need much and they didn’t ask for much. They had each other, and that was really all they needed. But sometimes it felt good to have something extravagant. To dress like you’re king of the world. Just to feel good. And considering their 18th had passed not a week ago and they had both only gotten a card with a few dollars in it. But mom and dad made up for it.

            Stan was wearing a sort of rosy pink colored tux. It didn’t have any frills because that was just too girly for him. God forbid he had a pink tux with _frills_ on it. It was plain, but he looked amazing. They both had matching gold watches, courtesy of their parents. It made them feel… together. He had on a black bowtie that Ford had to tie for him. His brother smiled up at him after finishing tying it.

            Stan wanted to kiss him so bad. He was so good-looking in that baby blue tux of his. His creamy brown eyes glimmered in the dim light of their room. Stan saw his reflection in Ford’s glasses and thought about how much more beautiful the world is reflected in his brother’s eyes. And kissing him would be alright. They were okay with it and had expressed how _very_ okay they were with it with each other. It was weird, but who cared? They were adults and it was prom night. Who the fuck cares?

            So Stan leaned in and pressed his lips against Ford’s, surprising the older twin. But Ford didn’t need to much notice. He kissed back passionately, his upper lip brushing against Stan’s teeth. Who cares?

                “Boys! Are y’all ready to go? Your ride is here. We’re leaving as soon as you are,” their mom called out. They were getting a ride to prom from one of Stan’s friends in a limousine. Their parents were going out clubbing and probably would be back tomorrow evening at the earliest. They shared one more quick kiss and walked into the living room/.

            “Awe. My boys. All grown up. So handsome. Don’t they look good, hon?” The twins blushed, embarrassed of their mother.

            “Uh, yea, sure. Can we just go already?” Their father wasn’t exactly enthusiastic.

            “Yea, we can.” She embraced the two men at the same time, squeezing them tightly. “You boys be safe tonight. Don’t get too drunk and don’t get any girls pregnant.” She punctuated the sentence with a wink. She gave each of them a kiss on the forehead. “I love you boys. Have fun.” She turned and walked outside to the car. Stan and Ford stood in the doorway.

            “We will, Ma. Love you too.” Their parents had already driven away before the last word could leave Ford’s mouth. Their father had never been big on sympathetics.

            They walked down the cement walkway to the limo where Stan’s friend Tyler was hanging out the roof.

            “Come on, Stan. Carla’s waiting for you. She wants yooou.” He was obviously already a little tipsy, making Ford uncomfortable. Stan noticed and put a hand on his brother’s back.

            “Are you okay, bro?”

            “Yea, I’m fine. Let’s go.” Ford gave a smile and opened the door to the limo. He was getting ready to climb in beside his date, who Stan had gotten for him, Julie. But as he put one foot in the car, he realized someone had already taken the spot beside her.

            “Julie… wh-who’s that?” He felt… disgusted.

            “This is my _real_ date to prom, Fred.” She smiled and put a hand on Fred’s chest.

            “Bu-bu-but I thought we were going together.”

            “Like I would ever go to prom with a nerd like you. Freak.” Everyone in the limo started laughing at him. He ran up the steps, into the house, and crashed into his bed, ripping off his bowtie and jacket, and began sobbing into his pillow immediately.

            Stan leaned into the limo. “What the fuck is your problem, man?” Everyone was still laughing.

            “What? We were just having a little fun,” Julie said.

            “Yea, baby. It’s all good. I know he’s your brother, but he’s a loser. Come on.” Carla put out her hand, but Stan slapped it away.

            “Listen up, bitch. What you did was not fucking cool. That’s suck. That’s my brother. I love him and I swear to God if any one of you even look at him again, I will snap your fucking necks. Especially you, Julie. Fuck you. You’re the freak. All of you. Bunch of sickos. Get the fuck away from my house.” He started to walk into the house, but remembered seeing something in the limo. He walked back and reached in to get an unopened bottle of champagne.

            “Hey man. Fuck off. That’s-”

            “Tyler, if you try and touch the bottle, I will break it over your head and slit your neck.” He walked away feeling like a badass. The limo drove off and Stan didn’t care. He was only worried about Ford.

            He walked into their room and saw Ford on the bed, messy and sobbing uncontrollably. He slipped off his shoes and proceeded to take Ford’s off.

            “-sniffle- Stuh- Stanley? Aren’t you going to prom?” He stopped crying so much when he saw Stanley. Stan sat down and brushed Ford’s hair off of his teary face.

            “Nah. I told those pricks to fuck off. Fuck prom. You are way more important than that. Prom means nothing.” He leaned down and planted a kiss on his brother’s forehead. “Here. Have some champagne.” Ford took the bottle, already opened by Stan, and chugged down half of it. A bad idea because the bubbly stuff worked quick. He began hiccupping and already felt his head growing fuzzy.  Stan took the bottle from him and began drinking it.

            “Really, though? Prom means nothing to you?”

            “Of course not. You are what matters most. For you, Stanford, I’m always there.”

 Ford smiled for a second, but then dark thoughts took over his mind again. “But I’m nothing. I’m a freak. Just like they said.” He began crying again. “I’m just- I’m just a fucking pile of worthlessness. I’m noth-” But he couldn’t get out that last word because his lips were pressed against his brother’s.

            A kiss meant only to shut Ford up quickly shifted to something much more passionate, as Ford’s sadness vanished instantaneously and he pushed back against Stanley. They moved in unison, twisting their faces so the other could get better access to whatever they wanted. Stan put his hand into Ford’s messy hair and began tugging slightly. This act made Ford confident, so he slipped his tongue over his twin’s lower lip. It was chapped, which only made him want to moisten it more.

            Stan moaned and moved his hands down to the bottom of Ford’s shirt. It was tucked formally, so he untucked it informally and began unbuttoning it. He slipped it off, revealing Ford’s pectoral muscles and abs. He didn’t work out much. He was a scholar, not an athlete. But he was still well-defined and the lines around his stomach made Stan’s mouth water.

            He began kissing down his stomach, pushing Ford on his back in the process. The older twin moaned as Stan swiped his tongue over Ford’s left nipple. He couldn’t handle the absence of skin on skin contact, so Stan quickly removed his shirt and coat. He leaned back down and began kissing Ford’s neck.

            Ford worked on Stan’s pants, unbuckling the belt and sliding them down, accidently bringing the boxers down with them. Who wore boxers to prom?

            “Uhh… oops.” Ford smiled slightly and blushed.

            “It’s okay. As long as your’s come off, too.” Stan winked and removed the rest of Ford’s clothes. His erection popped up, fully hard and pulsing. Stan had always been jealous that Ford was longer than him. Not by much, but still. But Stan’s girth made up for it. The fact that they had compared cocks on numerous occasions was beside the point.

            Stan laid down on Ford and started kissing him again, their bodies touching at so many points. Their stomachs. Stan’s abs sliding against Ford’s belly button. Their aching cocks. Rubbing against each other, building up heat, begging for entrance to something. Their legs. Moving against each other in earnest of what would happen next.

            “Uhh… Got any lube?” Stan eyed Ford and laughed at his prude of a brother. Can’t even ask if his twin brother had lube without getting embarrassed.

            “Of course I do.” Stan went over to his dresser and pulled out a bottle of lube. It had never been used. He had been hoping he’d use it with Carla tonight, but fuck that bitch.

            Ford was panting, his eyes closed, touching himself absentmindedly. Stan walked over to him and touched his cheek.

            “Are you sure you want to do this bro-bro?” He wanted this so bad. For so many years now. He had been tired of kissing and sucking and jacking each other off. He _needed_ to be inside Ford. And he was finally going to satisfy his needs.

            “Abso-fucking-lutely.” Stan needed no more confirmation.

            He smiled and flipped Ford over on his back. They laughed together. They were happy. He squirted some lube on his fingers and inserted his middle finger into Ford’s hole. A groan of pleasure escaped Ford’s mouth. Thank God their parents weren’t there. Ford could get quite loud.

            Stan pumped in and out, inserting his index finger as well. Ford was moaning non-stop. It drived Stan to put in another finger, trying to adjust Ford, but he didn’t really have the patience.

            “I’m the one….. that’s usually formal….. oh God that feels good…. But can you please use your cock to penetrate me?” Stan was stupefied for a couple seconds, but then reality came to him and he realized what Ford had said. He removed his fingers and slicked up his throbbing member.

            He lined himself up at Ford’s twitching hole. He stared down at his brother for a second. His forehead was drenched with sweat. He was panting. But he was smiling slightly. He was so content. And Stan loved that.

            He pushed inside Ford, his head immediately feeling the warmth and tightness of his older brother.

            “Fuhhhhck.” Stan pushed his entire length into Ford slowly, allowing him to adjust, pushing back and forth slowly.

            “Chriiist Stanley… Would you- would you get this show on the road?” Ford was becoming impatient. His brother felt amazing inside of him, but he needed more speed.

            “Your choice of words is kinda turning me off.”

            “Oh, shut up.”

            Stan chuckled and began thrusting faster. Ford was so warm. So tight. His dick was twitching inside of Ford as he hit his prostate. Ford’s moans were getting very loud. Stan was just grunting and panting. He couldn’t really make that many sounds because the pleasure was so overwhelming.

            He cursed his teenage boy hormones. He felt his climax coming. It wouldn’t be long until he came. He saw Ford jacking himself off and realized it would be okay to come. He pushed into Ford harder, the slapping sound from skin drowning out all sound. He felt lighting strike throughout his body, as he came inside Ford. He pulled out, panting and sweaty. He heard Ford inhale sharply and then moan, indicating they he had ejaculated too. Ford turned over slowly and faced his brother. They smiled at each other.

            “Oh, shit. We forgot to use a condom,” Ford said through pants. Stan chuckled.

            “What? Don’t want to ruin your life by getting _pregnant_?” Ford laughed. “Come one, bro. You know we’re both clean. We just lost our virginity to each other.”

            “Wait. You’re a virgin?”

            Stan winked. “Not anymore.” They smiled at each other.

            Stan looked at his older twin, taking in all of his beauty. Had that really just happened? It did. And he regretted no part of it. It was amazing. He loved it.

            “I love you, Stanley.” Ford smiled while saying it, his eyes closed. Stan took his hand and kissed it gently.

            “I love you, too, Sixer. I love you too.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Stan woke up, panting. He saw Ford sitting at the foot of the bed. He looked over and put a hand on Stanley’s right leg.

            “We need to talk,” Ford said.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Ford talk. It doesn't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. I have had a severe case of writer's block. Hopefully, the next chapter will be up within a reasonable time frame.

Stan sat up and stared at his brother. Of course they had to talk.

            “Umm, yea. I think… I think we need to talk, too.”

            Though he had just woken up, Stan wasn’t groggy at all. He didn’t have to rub at his eyes or splash his face with water. He was fully aware of everything around him. The waves crashing against the boat. The gentle rock of the boat. Or at least it was gentle by default. Some of the storms they had passed through were absolutely monstrous. The smell of bacon. Had Ford cooked? Ford only cooked for his brother when something awful had happened and their parents were too afraid to share the news with the younger of their twins.

            Ford was staring at him, with those big brown eyes of his. His lips were pressed together tightly, as if they were trying to keep something from escaping because if it did come out, all Hell would break loose. His six fingers were tapping both of his knees nervously in a sporadic rhythm.

            “Well… see. You know I’ve looked into how memory works. The medial temporal lobe of the brain is very complex, but looking at the studies and the recollections of the people who’ve lost their memory and then regained it, I’ve observed that one thing remains constant.” Ford was looking down at his hands, refusing to make eye contact with his brother.

            “And what is that one thing?” Stan eyed his older twin, noticing that his hair was combed and fixed, rather than messy.

            “Well… see… when a certain distressful or exciting or just really important moment in your life is sort of… triggered I guess, the memories involving, surrounding, or leading up to that particular moment all come back. Take a marriage for example. A man who lost his memory is walking somewhere, down the road or in a garden perhaps. And he sees the flower that made up his wife’s bouquet. That would trigger the recollection of the event. He remembers proposing to her. Then planning the wedding. The food, the cake, the decorations. Then inviting the guests. And then he finally remembers his life partner standing in front of him. They say their vows. They say I do. They kiss. This all comes back within a period of a few days. It doesn’t take long. The human mind is a curious thing.” Ford finished his explanation and finally made eye contact with his younger twin.

            “So what? You think that’s what’s going on with me?” Stan chuckled nervously.

            “No, Stanley. I _know_ that is what is happening with you right now. Or may have already happened… Tell me about the dream you just had.”

            “Why do you assume I had a dream that relates to your theory?”

            Ford chuckled. “Stanley. You’re my brother. We spent our entire childhood and teen years together. I remember you dreaming when we were younger. Especially when you were having… what’s the term?” Ford scratched his head, thinking. “Wet dreams? Yes. I do believe that’s the term.”

            “What are you talking about? Wet dreams? Are you kidding me Ford? At my age? That’s ridiculous.” Stan’s eyes darted around nervously, fully aware of his surroundings and environment, especially paying attention to the fact that Ford kept inching closer to him. Sweat was forming on his forehead.

            A small laugh emulated from Ford. “You can’t lie to me, Stanley. You were tossing and turning like a criminal dreaming of the dirty deeds he’d committed in his lifetime. You were moaning quite a lot as well. Not in distress, but in pleasure.” A devilish grin came over the older twin’s face. “It was about me, wasn’t it?”

            A veil of shame covered Stan’s face as he looked down. “Goddammit. Yes, Ford. You’re right. Once a-fucking-gain.”

            “I figured they would come around soon enough. Those memories. Some of the happiest you have probably had.” Ford kept creeping closer and closer to his brother. “And happy memories don’t stay under for too long.”

            Stan looked up and met his brother’s soft eyes. The entire universe was laid out in those creamy, brown eyes. He could see the stars dancing around Ford’s irises. All meaning was carried by his eyelashes. But as much as loved and adored and craved and worshiped and needed this man before him, Stan couldn’t help but be furious with him.

            How could Ford keep that from him? Stan lost his virginity to his brother, something he thought you should always remember because it was so sacred. But then again, everything was sacred with Ford. That only fueled his anger. And Ford didn’t even trust him enough to tell him that they’d had sex. Sure Ford had tried to help Stan regain his memory. But through science. Ford hadn’t shared his memories with Stan. Many of their memories were shared. Why couldn’t Ford be intimate? Everything had to do with science when it came to that man. That’s what infuriated Stan the most.

            “Why do you assume those memories are happy to me?” Ford curled back slightly.

            “Well, um... of course they’re happy. You were euphoric when we made those memories, Stanley.” Ford closed all of the distance between him and his brother. Something animalistic shined in his eyes.

            A smirk crept onto his face. Stan felt six fingers slowly stroking his cheek. Something in his gut stirred, a feeling that hadn’t been there for thirty years. He trembled under his brother, the anger sinking into his subconsciousness.

            “Wh-what are you doing, Sixer?” Stan sighed as he felt his brother’s lips brush against his ear.

            “Pleasing you.” He began to nip and suck at the younger man’s neck. One hand cradled Stan’s neck and the other pushed him onto his back. Stan’s body tingled in response to Ford’s weight. He put his hand in his brother’s hair twisting and pulling.

            “I know what you want, Stanley.” And though it had only happened for a few seconds, and Stan wanted more, he had to stop it. How dare his brother touch him like he was a toy?

            “No you don’t, Ford.” He pushed his brother off of him swiftly, making the other man land in a heap on the floor. Those carnal feelings were gone and nothing but anger was in their place.

            Ford rubbed his head where it had apparently hit one of the legs of his desk. “What the hell, Stanley?”

            Stan stood up over his brother. “You don’t fucking know me, Stanford. You were gone for thirty fucking years. And you can’t even help me without science when it comes to my memory. You kept something like us having sex from me. God know what else. I can’t even fucking trust you. Hate to call you my brother, you piece of shit scientist.” He spit beside where Ford was standing.

            “Goddammit, Stanley. I was trying to see if your limbic system would heal itself. With the trauma you’ve been through, I was hoping it would. It would have been a breakthr-” Stan’s fist connected with Ford’s jaw.

            “So I was just another experiment to you.”

            Ford turned up, holding his mouth, and punched Stan in the gut. “Fuck you Stanley. You self-centered son of a bitch.” He tackled his brother to the ground, their yelling and thudding drowning out all other noise.

            “Oh-ho. Old Fordsie has given up his pretentious vocabulary and traded it for profanity.”

            “Goddamn right. I can’t believe you would think that.” He punched Stan again.

            “It’s not what I think. It’s what I know you twisted son of a bitch”

            They rolled around on the floor, landing kicks here and there. Punches were thrown and most of the time, they hit their target. Stan put on his brass knuckles and tried to hit Ford, but Ford ducked and hit Stan with all the strength he could muster. He tumbled back and fell, breaking a lamp. Blood was dripping from his mouth and nose.

            “You can’t defeat me, Stanley. I spent thirty years running from intergalactic monsters and police. I taught myself how to fight and nobody ever bested me. I had wit along with strength, two things that only a few people have at once, and you are not one of them.”

            Stan laughed as Ford sat on the bed. “There you go again, you bastard. You and your brain. Well your brain just lost me. The next time we dock, I’m getting off of this boat. May as well call it Hell since the devil himself inhabits the boat’s cabin. You won’t see me again.” Stan began to walk to the door.

            “Stanley, wait. I’m sorry.” Ford didn’t get off the bed, but one six-fingered hand reached out to his brother.  Stan’s hand was on the doorknob.

            “No, Ford.” Both twins put their head down. Ford fell down onto the bed.

            Stan walked outside, unaware of the disastrous storm barely beginning to rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go. What shall happen next? And thank you for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford gets kinda dark and kinda works out some personal problems and almost loses his brother.... again. (And I still can't do summaries.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been on hiatus for awhile and I apologize. I hope that the last few chapters will be up in a more timely manner.

            Ford hadn’t drunk this heavily since… well he had never drunk this heavily. He never felt the need to. Sure he had a beer here and there with an occasional hi ball of whiskey. But he was never really depressed. He had always found a way to look on the bright side of things. When he was lost in time in space, he figured that it was the opportunity of a lifetime. When he was beaten to death by those sadistic creatures of the planet Karnaz, he thought that if he survived it would say a lot about his strength. They punctured him with their tails. Razors shredded through his body. He didn’t know that there was a level of physical pain so extreme like that. But he pushed and survived. And the feeling when he got on his feet after conquering death was almost orgasmic.

            But this was beyond his reasoning. The toxic liquid chilled his veins and scorched his throat as he attempted to rationalize what had happened. Had he just lost his brother? _His life?_

            Laying on the somehow unscathed bed, Ford had never felt so alone. Pieces of glass decorated the floor. The broken room around him was his prison cell. His brother was a mere twenty feet away, but it meant nothing. He wasn’t really there.

            Ford took another chug of Stan’s Jameson. Stan had brought five bottles aboard. One had already been consumed by the younger man. The one in Ford’s hand had been untouched, but now there was hardly anything left. Ford was sure he was going to get alcohol poisoning. His body wasn’t used to this intense consumption. He had his share of poison throughout his life, but this was different. This was human.

            The genius turned himself so he was facing the wall. His hands traced the lines in the wood. Crooked. Never coming to form a comprehensible structure. Just like him. Crooked. Disgusting. Evil.

            _I treated him like shit. My own brother. The love of my fucking life._

            He clutched the bottle to his stomach, spilling some of the liquid on the bed. He curled up into the fetal position, his muddy boots staining the sheets. Tears began to drip from his eyes as they did on dreary days where the rain amounted to nothing more than a drizzle.

            _What am I? What is my worth? Nothing? Stanley… I’m so sorry._ He tried to push the last thought into his brother’s mind, trying to use the power of telepathy. However, he knew that ability was not present on this world yet.

            _Will you ever forgive me? No. I’m not worth your forgiveness. You are too kind… to special… for this pathetic excuse of a man._ He was having a conversation with Stan in his mind.

            “Where are you?” And then the drizzle became a wicked thunderstorm. Tears rushed down his face in an endless river. Sobs echoed through the cabin walls. It was the kind you hear when a person loses their lifelong best friend. But perhaps this metaphor is unfitting. Because that was what really had happened. Ford had lost his best friend. His lover. His life. His everything.

            He shook by himself. Occasional screams accompanied the sobs. For once, Stanford Pines was acting human. Not some genius with power. Not some enhanced man who was superior to everyone else. No. He was not that anymore. He was human now.

            “God damn it! Damn it! I’m sorry! Forgive me!” Broken, he whimpered. He begged. He prayed. And then his grief halted for a moment. The real world came back to him. The dark, frightening, lonely world where he had been for the past forty minutes drifted away, traveling to destroy someone else.

            Though Ford didn’t know it yet, the real world was much more terrifying than anything his mind created. In the real world, the Stan o’ War II shook viciously. In the real world, his brother’s screams rang through his head. He got up, walking slowly to the door, not wanting to open it, but knowing he had no other choice. In his mind, he would open it and find Stan leaning over the edge of the boat slightly, observing dolphins in the sun. He would beckon Ford over and they would share a sweet kiss. But instead, Ford opened the door and found nothing of the sort.

            “Ford! Ford help me! Please!” He didn’t know what direction the screams were coming from. The wind carried Stan’s voice everywhere. It blew hard, trying to take Ford along with it. He bent over slightly, attempting to steady himself. Rain pelted his face and body. He had been outside for no more than thirty seconds and he was already soaking wet. Thunder growled and lightning screamed at the man.

            Ford shielded his face from the vicious rain and tried to locate Stan. All he saw was rope thrashing everywhere. It swung and curved like snakes, teasing him. He finally saw a speck of white in the gray storm. Eight digits were grasping tightly to the edge of the boat closest to Ford. He didn’t want to face it, but he knew Stan was hanging over the side, Death eagerly waiting to take him.

            He rushed over and grabbed Stan’s hands. The moisture made it almost impossible to get a firm grip, but he fought hard.

            “Stanley! I’m here! I’m here! Just hold on.”

            “Ford! Oh God, Ford. Please help me!” Stan tried to grab a hold to Ford’s shirt, but it only made things worse. One of his hands was now free and flailing.

            “Damn it, Stanley. You’re slipping!” Ford used both hands to try and hoist Stan up, but it just was not happening. It was too slick.

            Stan’s arm began to lose more contact with Ford’s hands. What was once ten inches of grip now diminished to only three.

            “Goddamnnit! I am not going to fucking lose you again!” But he did. The last inch faded and Stanley fell. He flailed and tried to reach for something, only finding a thin piece of rope to grab onto.

            “Fuck! Shit! Ford, help me _please_!” Ford didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to think. But perhaps he should abandon his constant analysis of things and just act. So he did.   
            The rope was growing thinner as strings of twine snapped due to Stan’s weight. Ford thanked God that he had fought so many creatures because if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to do what he did.

            He grabbed the rope, not caring where it began, only knowing that his life was at the end. He pulled. He heaved. He ho’d. And the boat rocked, tempting them to try and cheat death. Stan was almost at the top when the boat jerked suddenly sending him flying fifteen feet in the air. He crashed onto the deck, his head making brutal contact with the wood. Ford rushed over, praying he was not dead.

            He dragged his brother into the cabin where the weather couldn’t torment them. Blood stained his hands slightly. He looked at his twin’s head and discovered a thin stream of scarlet. He put a small mirror in front of Stan’s mouth and saw it cloud up. _Oh thank God._ He tried to get a pulse from his brother’s wrist. It was faint, but it was there. It was there.

            “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Stanley… please be okay. I can’t lose you again.” He picked his brother up and out him on the bed. He rushed to their chest of drawers and picked out some alcohol, gauze, and medical tape. It wasn’t what Stan needed, but it was all they had and it would have to do.

            His shaking hands put alcohol on some of the gauze and he patted away the blood. After he had a better view, he picked out some splinters. The wound wasn’t that deep. Ford didn’t really know who or what was looking out for them, but he thanked whatever was out there. After cleaning the wound the best he could, he wrapped Stan’s head in gauze and taped it up.

            “Stanley… Stanley. Please wake up. Stanley… I need you. Please. Please wake up… I love you.” He grabbed his desk chair and pulled it over. He laid his head on his life’s chest, making sure the heartbeats didn’t stop. His right hand held Stan’s right. The other hand carefully and gently played with the silver hair at the top of Stan’s head.

            “Please…”

            And he waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's that for a cliff hanger?  
> Just keep reading, guys.  
> Thanks for putting up with my month and a half long intermissions.


End file.
